A gay Palestinian comments on the Missile East and translates videos from its underbelly.

Tuesday, May 22, 2007

Nizo's Erotica Part 1: Un Barbat Adevărat

To celebrate the advent of a sinful summer, politics will take a backseat as the next couple of carnal blog-posts will cover actual episodes of my exciting life. Here’s the first in a multipart series.

Raluca, my charming Romanian coworker goes berserk at the sight of a real man.You see, my typical day at work involves meeting with a steady stream of visiting (mostly male) sales reps. They litter the parking lot with their oxford-green minivans. The same vehicles they use to transport their 2.5 kids from a previous failed marriage. If one requires an explanation for the high divorce rate, one only has to look at these middle-aged, engineering-degreed, checkered-shirted, bespectacled, nasal-voiced, bald-spotted, rotund drones.

How such men manage to bring a woman to orgasm is beyond my comprehension. No wonder their frustrated wives eventually replace them with plastic battery-operated contraptions - or a UPS delivery boy named Gino.

Fortunately, there is an exception to this pitiable parade of male mediocrity. Behold the 6-foot-3 beefcake, built like an Abrams tank, with jet-black hair and deep blue eyes.

An ex-sniper in his late-thirties, he rides in once a month on a black Mustang, his potent appeal simmering, gurgling baritonely under a cool, imperturbable surface. He trots into my office, a proud thoroughbred, yet sans an ounce of overbearing machismo. Shaking my hand with a vice-like iron grip, he waits for my signal before seating himself.

At ease soldier. As they say, you can take the man out of the army...

He then pulls out his semi-rigid coaxial cable and executes the customary sales pitch regarding its many virtues. As is the custom, I manually test its firmness and then proceed to closely examine the gleaming bulbous nickel-plated connector tip.

Adonis smiles broadly as I give him an order sizeable enough to keep him happy, but never too much, so as to keep him coming back for more.On his way out, the jovial ex-sniper shoots a wink at libidinous Raluca, who then sashays her way over and clutches my arm with a perfectly manicured paw. She tilts her head backwards and her big lustful brown eyes roll back into their sockets. A couple of moans and shudders later, she arches her back and cries out:

Fine, then! The glorious Raccoonish nation will no longer suffer these insults and humiliations!

From now henceforth, by a divine decree, ALL OF YOUR FOOD ARE BELONG TO US! Starting with pumpkins.

And should you fail to cease your evil, inhuname and imperialistic occupation of our divinely gifted foods, we will have no choice but to preemptively retaliate in self-defense by eating your cats, dogs and other pets!

We swear, by the holy lice on Nobody's white beard, that the day cometh when a million raccoon carcasses will litter the pumpkin fields.

Oh infidel Raccoon, do you not recall the battle of Tel El-Bazoon? When we made garlands out of your skulls? When we upholstered our tents with your pellets?When our offspring feasted on your entrails?

Do you not see the ranks of our valiant Rottweilers, poised to sink their jaws into your feeble necks? Do you not fear their fury, oh infidel Raccoon?

Do you not hear the piercing battle shrieks of our heroic Republican Guard Chihuahuas, as they hone their claws in preparation to defend our nation’s honour?

We swear, by the holy ticks on Nobody’s toe hair, that if you desecrate our bountiful meadows, our goblets shall flow with the blood of your fallen.

Depart! Flee! For you have awakened a nation of wrathful beasts from its slumber!

but after all i discern, below layers upon layers of social conditioning and politically correct brain washing, a true jihadist heart is beating loud and proudly ... bin laden does not know what he is missing

You know NB, your kind has the fancy planes and high tech guns.. but when it comes to hot-air rhetoric, you just can't beat the Arabs. Our language lends itself to verbal theatrics. Although....Raccoon's knowledge of Russian might help him compose a couple of complex sentences.

*A statement from the Popular Committees For Liberation of Foods (PCLF)*

By the grace of ChitterChitter the all-merciful;

The lies and empty bluster of the accursed ZBF are as empty as their black souls!

Can you not hear the whimpers of your pathetic occupation canines? They whine and hide beneath your sofas as they remember the great battle of Teez-el-Nabi, where ChitterChitter's hand guided our mighty forces to victory.

We shall again annihilate your occupation of our divinely gifted foods like our illustrious holy warriors destroyed your emasculated invaders at the Lake of Birket Kus. The waters shall again run red with the blood of infidel dogs; our rightly guides Commandos shall devour your flesh and enjoy the lamentation of your women.

Flee now, foul occupiers! ChitterChitter's mercy extends even to the infidel, but woe to the wretch who invites his wrath by infringing upon our holy rights! No stone shall remain standing of your dwellings where stolen foods are hoarded. No pet of a thieving infidel shall remain unmolested. And lest you submit to the divine will of ChitterChitter the allmighty, the allseeing, the allmerciful, our holy defenders of His ineffable will shall rend your flesh from your bones and bathe in your blood; our cubs shall play will your skulls in the ruins of your vile cities; and our females shall sleep on the torn remains of your skin!

By the graciousness and mercy of our beloved ideology of canine hedonistic secularism, we declare a renewal of a state of war with the unenlightened followers of ChitterChitter.

Like a tent, shame is pitched over your nation, and no covenant with a mythological heretical deity will protect you from the wrath of our canine fighters.

We hereby declare, that every captured raccoon is to be put to the sword, and mercy shall not be dispensed except for your male cubs, who shall dwell with us as eunuch-slaves. We shall brand their foreheads with a mark of shame and they shall beat their chests and lament the great loss that we shall inflict upon them. Our kennels they shall clean with their heads held low and once they expire we shall use them as footrests.

Your Raccoon womenfolk, we seek to cull and abolish. Oh how evil are those wombs that brought forth such begrimed offscourings of mamalkind.

Rejoice in gorging yourselves on the food you have stolen, for an extravagant feast we shall prepare with your harvested fattened innards.

Wheresoever ye may be, death at the hands of our elite terriers will overtake you. Verily, as it is written in our Holy Instruction Manual:

'The Hour of great victory will not arrive until you fight the Raccoons, until a Raccoon will hide behind a rock or tree, and the rock and the tree will say: Oh Canine, there is a Raccoon behind me, come and kill him!'